


Warmth in the Storm

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Human Castiel, M/M, Punk, Roommates, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 10:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11507568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: If he dared to be honest with himself, he’d admit he’s suppressed these thoughts for months now. Watching the night crawl in and embrace the city that surrounds him, however, he feels like he’s almost ready to give in. He’s falling in love, stupidly and in vain, with a man who simply does not feel that way; as far as Sam knows, Castiel has never had a relationship, and he’s never wanted one, either.





	Warmth in the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hit_the_books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/gifts).



> Commission. :> This was surprisingly fun to write!

* * *

 

  
Sam’s dripping. His sweat glues his hair onto his forehead and makes his entire body feel as if baked inside his work clothes even as he enters the cool stairway of his rented apartment. He’s not sure if Cas is home yet, but he hopes so; one thing he learned on the way back home was that he’d left his keys behind. His hand held back as if in shame, he knocks on the door, then stops to listen for any sign of life from behind it. To his relief, it doesn’t take long for footsteps to announce his roommate approaching, and soon, he stands in the doorway with a small smile on his features, deep blue eyes twinkling in the light cast from the small hallway window behind Sam’s back.

”You left your keys,” Castiel states the obvious.  
He looks relaxed and comfortable - everything Sam is not.  
”Where were you? You look like you’ve been swimming.”

Sam chuckles as he passes the man in the doorway and enters the apartment. They’ve put a lot of combined effort into decorating it to their taste - plenty of posters cover up the walls, and where they don’t, they’ve got art instead. The couch is a little rugged, black over a white carpet placed underneath a black coffee table, and the TV stands in the midst of an assortment of candles and pamphlets from concerts and any one of the demonstrations Sam’s been to lately.

”At the protest, remember?”

”Against... what, this time?”

”For, Cas. Laws to protect animals from abuse.”

”Right.”

Sam pulls off the sweater he wears to work at the book store after giving Cas a short amused look. A little bit of something flashes through his mind as he does so, but he suppresses it quickly - he’s just eager to get out of his wet clothes, that’s all. Just the same he ignores the brief silence between them as Cas stops before him and seems to look at him differently for a moment before dragging his gaze back up to his eyes, but that’s probably just wishful thinking; for all Sam knows, Cas is... not interested.

”Come with me next time,” he says to break the silence, ”There’re a lot of people who feel the same way about things as we do. It’s not good to isolate yourself. You have bad experiences with communities and I get that, but these people aren’t like that, I promise.”

Castiel smiles at him, but it’s the kind of a smile that tells Sam he’s just doing so to humour him, and to present him a wordless apology - he’s still not sure about coming. With his messy hair, his loosely hanging button-up and his tight black jeans, he looks just about ready to mix with the people Sam’s been meeting, but he knows why Cas is afraid, too. After surviving and escaping the harsh religious community that nearly killed him for being different, joining another group bound by ideology, even a progressive one, would of course make him scared. In this way, Sam couldn’t be more different. He was raised on the road and had to fight for his right to belong, and after college taught him that he had the right to look for it, he found himself starving for community, for connection. It’s easy for him to mix into a group that feels the same way he does, and more than that, a group that _looks_ like him, where he doesn’t stand out with his piercings and his tattoos, his torn jeans and his slogan shirts. Days like this, after he’s walked the streets with people he can call friends for hours in order to promote what he feels is right, he just wishes that Cas could feel that way too.

”I don’t know, Sam,” Castiel tells him in a soft voice, as if afraid to let him down.

While he thinks his words over, Sam crosses the kitchen-living room space and opens the door to his bedroom: it’s crowded in there. Cas, paying more rent from his assistant accountant’s salary, has the bigger bedroom and Sam has to do with the more limited (and more familiar) guest bedroom. It was never up for a debate, however, and Sam’s never felt like he would prefer it any other way - his college apartment was just as small, and before then, he had to share motels with his brother and his father for most of his life. After that, just a little bit of privacy and space that he owns is more than enough for him. Plus, he’s got his own closet. He drags the door open and pulls out a black shirt with a loose collar and pulls it on. Its uneven hem settles around his waist before he tugs down his pants, now more than just slightly aware of the fact that the door is open, but Cas isn’t looking at him.

”I don’t want to disappoint you,” the man tells the kitchen table just outside Sam’s door as Sam pulls on his jeans, ”But I’m just not... ready yet.”

”You’ll never be ready, Cas,” Sam tells him, straightening up and moving to his doorway.  
He leans to it, eyes upon the other man, and he smiles sadly.  
”You just have to take a leap of faith. Come with me. I’ll make sure nobody tries anything.”

Their eyes meet and this time, Castiel’s smile is more open to him, even if the apologetic tone never leaves his expression.

”Sam...”

”I know,” Sam tells him, ”Another day, right?”

Cas nods.  
”Another day.”

 

* * *

 

Evening breaks through the warm glow of late afternoon as the sun begins to fade behind the city’s rugged skyline. Shower-fresh, Sam stands on the balcony, belly leaning to the railing, his teeth and tongue absently playing with the ring on his lip. From west, a uniform blanket of dark clouds is approaching - as a child, Sam used to think that night fell that way, dragged over the scenery like a big cover that hid the sun. Now, he knows to expect rain instead.

”Do you want dinner, Sam?”

Castiel speaks from the doorway, his hand pushing through the rainbow of colours painted into a curtain that separates the outside from the inside. Sam turns around, leans his hips into the safeguard behind him instead, and nods with a smile.

”Sure thing. What are you making?”

”Something you’ll like, I hope,” Cas tells him with a warm huff.  
He disappears, leaving the curtain swinging slightly in the breeze. Down below somewhere, a car’s horn blasts multiple times like a gun firing - it makes Sam’s hair stand up, but he sighs the tension away from his body.

He tilts his body backwards until his long hair hangs down above the fall down towards the ground level. The sky above is a gorgeous mixture of deep blue space and fiery-looking clouds escaping the approaching storm, just the way he’d paint it if he was any better at art. He wishes he was, wishes he could colour up a canvas like his chosen artists coloured his skin, but he never had the time to practice those skills. He spent that time studying instead, and all that knowledge led him here, hanging upside down from the railing of his balcony with too many thoughts on his mind, most of them relating to Castiel.

If he dared to be honest with himself, he’d admit he’s suppressed these thoughts for months now. Watching the night crawl in and embrace the city that surrounds him, however, he feels like he’s almost ready to give in. He’s falling in love, stupidly and in vain, with a man who simply does not feel that way; as far as Sam knows, Castiel has never had a relationship, and he’s never wanted one, either. At times, Sam’s wondered if it’s because of the trauma that built him, or if it’s simply a matter of priorities, or if it’s biology. At those same times, he’s felt a tinge of desperation, a longing for something that seems out of his reach, but he can’t help but admit that perhaps the impossibility of reciprocation and therefore the safety of longing for something that cannot be achieved is part of the appeal. Cas is... not like the other men Sam’s met. Not like other people in general. In rainy weather like which now approaches him like a tidal wave from above, Cas shines like a beacon. In his uncertainty and his conflict, he’s solid and firm like a wall - his strength glows from within him and embraces anyone in his vicinity. Sometimes, often - perhaps too often - all Sam wants to do is just sink into that embrace and be lost in it for good.

He pulls back up, runs his fingers through his hair and sighs as blood rushes back down from his head and spreads with warmth into the rest of his body.

 

* * *

 

Castiel places the bowl of home-made meal salad onto the table approximately at the same time the first drops of rain start pitter-pattering upon the windowpane. The curtain-covered doorway to the balcony lets in a breath of chilly air, and Sam leans over the table to light up a scented candle; the music in the background is aggressive but its volume is turned down low so that it mixes seamlessly into the natural white noise of rain outside.

”Do you really want me to come?” Castiel asks him quietly; he’s already filling Sam’s plate before Sam has the chance to do it himself, and hands it to him with a gentle smile.

”Of course I do,” Sam assures him, accepting the plate with a wider smile and a nod of his head.

”Why?”

Sam leans back, his fingers wrapping around his fork. He doesn’t need to think about his answer.

”Because I want to do these things _with_ you. You were the first person I met who really got me. Who felt the same way about these things as strongly as I do. Who - well, you don’t look that much like me, but you get me.”

”I don’t have any piercings, no.”

”Or tattoos,” Sam chuckles, ”But you stand out like I do.”

Castiel nods.  
”I’ve never known how to fit in.”

”Me neither. My whole life, I always stuck out like a sore thumb. I still do, in a way, but much less than before. It doesn’t hurt me because I found you.”

”And you found this group of others,” Castiel continues for him.

Slowly, Sam nods.  
”They’re friends, Cas. But I don’t feel like they get me the same way you do, which is why I’d - I want to do these things with you. I want to fight for a better world with you by my side. I know you want the same, and I don’t want you to miss out.”

Castiel smiles, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns to look down at his plate and eats in silence for a while. Sam lets him.

”Before I met you,” Castiel finally says then, still not directly addressing Sam, ”I thought I would never find someone who understood how I felt.”

Sam nods, swallowing thickly. He doesn’t really know how to respond to it, but his body is suddenly pooling with warmth even against the chill flowing in past the curtain.

”I thought I would always - um - stick out like a sore thumb, like you said. Because of who I am, because of my past. I thought I would always be running. But with you, I’ve settled down. I have a career now. I have... foundations that I can grow roots in. I suppose, even if all this is temporary - we won’t live together forever - I’m simply afraid of my life changing again.”

”I get that, Cas, I do,” Sam tells him, ignoring the flash of pain in his chest at the thought of separation - of moving on, ”But meeting new people doesn’t have to change anything. It just gives you more freedom. More possibilities.”

”I was never afforded that in my childhood,” Castiel says, now looking up at Sam with a thoughtful look, ”I was - told to conform, to follow the rules or suffer the consequences.”

”You’ve come pretty far from that place, Cas,” Sam reminds him, his voice a little teasing.

Castiel lowers his gaze again, but he’s smiling, too.

”I suppose you are right,” he says then, lifting his fork and filling up his mouth, which comes with a few moments of silence before he swallows; ”You’re a bad influence, Sam Winchester.”

Sam laughs.  
”I like to think that we improve each other,” he tells Cas and picks up his glass of water; he brings it up between them, suggesting a toast.

Cas joins in.

”To improving each other?” he asks with a tentative smile on his features.

Sam nods.  
”To friendship and freedom.”

 

* * *

 

Around nine in the evening, they cross the road under a single umbrella. The store next door is small, and with the door open to invite in customers, the air inside is moist like it is outside despite the bright lights and the shelter it provides. They pack up a few cups of instant noodles, some bananas and a tall bottle of flavoured water, then add in the ingredients for something sweet that Cas wants to bake; he’s good at it. That was the way he befriended Sam in the first place: he used to bring his drug-free brownies wherever students gathered, and through the treats, they started talking. Retrospectively, that’s likely where Sam started falling, too. It was easy to become so intrigued with this tall, quiet stranger who wanted to spread happiness and kindness around him for nothing in return. He’d wanted to know more right away, beyond just wanting to connect with someone who seemed to share his taste in clothes and, for the main part, music too. Castiel was, and still is, a philantrophist more than he is an environmentalist like Sam. His priorities lie with people, with mankind, _humanity_ as he likes to put it. He’s infatuated with the concept of human potential, the same way Sam feels infatuated with him. It’s a dizzying feeling, something like being drunk. Not that Cas would do that - the same way that Sam’s a vegetarian, Cas is anti-everything bad. Coffee might be his only bad habit; to Sam’s knowledge, he’s never so much as touched alcohol. It doesn’t get in the way of their friendship - Sam’s not a big drinker, either. Never quite took after his brother, who likes parties and all the good that they bring with them. He’s more of the bookish type, always been, and with Cas, that’s never an issue.

The sky seems to be splitting above them. Wind blows hard through the street between the two buildings, seemingly intent on ripping the umbrella from Sam’s hands, and water’s crashing down like someone’s upturned a bucket above them. Rivers run downhill towards the crossroad, the lights of which now seem misty and distant through the storm. They cross them by jumping across them, but at the door to their building, Castiel stops before digging out the keys.

”Sam,” he says in his serious voice, the one that makes everything he says sound like it’s a matter of life and death.

Sam looks at him, feeling his back grow wet - they’re both too big to share an umbrella, but it’s the only one they’ve got.

”Yeah?”

There’s a short pause, during which, for a moment, Sam really thinks the sky cracked in half. A loud roar of thunder shakes the ground and its threatening vibrations run right through Sam’s body, making him shiver. He smiles, unsure why. It all seems so... dramatic. His smile catches onto Cas and they both stand there for a moment just looking at each other. Then, Cas shakes his head; he digs out his keys and lets them in.

”Perhaps inside,” he says, and they climb the stairs with a dripping wet umbrella and a bag of groceries in silence.

It’s chilly but homely inside. The curtain in the balcony doorway flaps in the wind and Sam goes to close the door behind it the first thing after kicking off his shoes. With only the candles lighting the table, the apartment suddenly seems very dark, and through the darkness, Cas comes to stand next to him. Through the window behind the curtain, they still bathe in the lights of other apartments weathering the storm near their own.

”Sam,” Cas says again, and Sam feels his fingers push between his own until he’s holding his hand, ”I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want to make you feel - indebted. But I need to tell you that out of all the people I’ve met, you’re the most special to me. I see goodness in you, kindness like very few others show. And you’ve shown it to me. You’ve believed in me. And through that, I... seem to have fallen for you. I don’t want this to change things, but I - I wanted you to know this.”

Their hands part, and so does Sam’s breath from him. He hears himself sigh and then he can’t seem to pull in more air anymore. For a moment, the rain and thunder is the only sound they hear, with lightning strikes lighting up the apartment and illuminating their faces. Castiel’s is so sincere - all Sam can feel on his own is the parting of his lips in absence of words. Scared that the moment will pass, he takes Castiel’s hand back in his own and holds it tightly, nodding.

”I feel the same,” he pushes the words out, swallowing hastily once they’re safely out there, ”I thought you... I thought you...?”

Cas smiles and shakes his head.  
”It just took me some time to find the words.”

 

* * *

 

Maybe it’s the darkness. If nothing else, it makes things so much easier. In the storm, every other day, the past and the future, seem so distant; the groceries are left on the table, as there’s no one there to sort them in the right places. Instead, Sam finds his hands pressing on both sides of Castiel’s face, and he pulls him into a kiss. The first one is lingering, as if he can’t quite believe that this is real. The next one comes from Castiel, and it’s hungry, like he’s been waiting for thousands of years for this. His body rests over Sam’s and presses him against the wall behind them, not by force but with a question, and Sam gives into it, lets him take control. He’s curious - what else hidden lurks inside the man he’s known for years? His hand fists in Castiel’s lightly curling, thick hair, and he pulls him closer by that fistful until he can feel teeth. He wonders if this is moving too fast, but Castiel doesn’t seem to mind it; his hands hold Sam’s waist, then drop down to the hem of his shirt. He pulls it off and brings his body against Sam’s nude skin, shaking.

”Is this alright, Sam?”

”More than just,” Sam breathes between them, and after giving Cas those three words, he presses his lips to his neck instead.

His own is tattooed from the left side, and as he kisses Cas everywhere he can reach - his neck, his jaw, his ear - Cas brings his fingertips to stroke at the scarring that marks the outlines of that picture, drawing it out in the darkness as he tilts his head for Sam to claim him. That simple, gentle touch in contrast to what Sam’s doing to him is enough to send a wave of arousal rushing through Sam’s spine and down into his cock, but a part of him feels ashamed of that, as if he’s still not quite sure that this is where Cas wants to take it tonight. Maybe he’s being too eager - too quick - to draw conclusions.

The next thing he knows, however, is a firm hold over his arm. Through the dark apartment, Cas brings him by the couch and pushes him down on it, and Sam lands on his back by falling over the arm rest after some awkward struggling to stay in balance. He lets out a breathless laugh, and Cas moves up and over him, drawing it from his lips. His hips feel hard against Sam’s own when he brings them down, but through the scraping of jeans and hip bones, Sam can clearly feel that he’s just as aroused as he is himself.

”You want this?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

”I want you,” Cas replies simply, his forehead pressing against Sam’s, ”Is it too soon?”

Sam shakes his head.  
”No,” he promises, ”I’ve - wanted... wondered what it’d be like if - if you - wanted me like this.”

He pushes his hips up and into Castiel, and Castiel lets out a short growl before pressing down into him.

”What I’ve wondered,” Cas says with a hint of revengeful teasing in his voice, ”is if you’re pierced in places that I haven’t yet seen.”

A surprised laugh escapes Sam. He shivers, nails digging into Castiel’s skin through his shirt. He hates that shirt right now - wants it off the other’s body.

”I guess you’ll just have to find out,” he snarls as he starts undoing the goddamn buttons in front of him.

It’s made harder by the fact that Castiel’s hip rests over his the whole time - he can feel the heat between their bodies, and resisting the urge to just leave the damn shirt on and start grinding up into that promise is hard enough for him. The couch digs into his neck and his legs are hanging over the edges, not even close to fitting on the cushions, but he barely notices it. All he knows is that when the shirt finally comes off, he can’t hold back from going right for the jeans next. Cas lets out a purring sort of a grunt when his fingers undo his fly - and he’s not wearing any damn underwear, either.

Sam stops to swallow. With his eyes closed, he can feel Cas moving over his neck, and for a while, he rests there, enjoying the kisses and preparing himself. It’s been a long time since he last slept with somebody - Jess in college was the last, and it’s been a couple years since her. Now, he’s already hard and aching, but touching Cas feels like he’s touching something sacred, and despite the explicit permission to do so, he still feels hesitant to plunge in head first. It’s all so new; every scent, every sensation, of his best friend moving against him. The smoothness of his lips and the softness of his tongue as it runs over the sensitive skin of his neck, his collarbone, then his nipple, and the way he sucks at it, like he’s never done it before - and maybe, likely, he never has - but knows exactly how he wants to do it; the mixture of boldness and inexperience in Castiel’s movements is intoxicating like few other things.

”We don’t fit on this couch,” Sam breathes into the darkness, opening his eyes just in time to catch another lightning striking, ”You sure you want it here...?”

Cas lets out a breathless laugh. With that, he steps off of Sam, but not far - and soon enough, Sam finds himself settling on the floor instead. The carpet with its faux fur feels pleasant against his back and he laughs, too.

”Much better,” he states as he pushes the coffee table out of the way.

He keeps his legs pressed together as Castiel undoes his jeans. His own are still clinging to his hips, although lower than before, and Sam can see his trimmed hair from beneath the waistband. Unthinking, he lifts his leg and presses it against Castiel’s crotch; it makes the man stop in his tracks, close his eyes and breathe in deep. Gently, Sam moves his leg against Cas, enjoying every flash of pleasure over his body and the feeling of his cock pressing hard through his clothes against his leg, its warmth and weight making the air catch in Sam’s lungs. He crawls into a sitting position, leaving Cas kneeling over his legs, and digs his hand down his open fly; his fingers wrap around Cas's thick cock and bring it out of his jeans with ease.

”I want to suck you,” he hears himself admit, ”Is that...?”

”Yes,” Cas tells him, ”Please.”

He’s never lacked manners, Sam thinks as he pulls himself on his knees and bows down in front of the other. He can feel the man’s scent when he comes closer to him, that mixture of warm, clean human scent and the unique mix of something deeper and stronger where his clothes have covered him so far. Sam bends Castiel’s cock down against his body and moves his tongue up the shaft from bottom to top, then circles the tip and runs the very tip of his tongue into the slit at the top, and all this time he can feel Cas shaking slightly, his breath hitching and small sounds of pleasure climbing up his throat. He never really dared to imagine what sex with him would be like, but if he had, he would have hoped to imagine this, every small twitch of the man’s body in response to his mouth taking him in inch by inch, the low groans and the feel of Castiel’s hand in his hair not pressing but caressing as he moves his head back up again. It doesn’t take long for him to taste precome over his tongue, and he leaves it at that, pulling back up and daring to kiss Cas afterwards, not sure if it’s to tease him or just because he longs for that contact. Cas doesn’t pull back, but he grins into the kiss; his firm hold brings Sam back on the floor and now Sam lets him drag off his jeans without interfering.

Cas lets out a soft huff as he brings his finger to trace the black ring tattooed around Sam’s cock; he draws it out like he drew out the lines on Sam’s neck, unfearing, with his eyes locked with Sam’s.

”No piercings, then,” he says in a voice of a scientist discovering something unexpected.

”Would you like it better if it had some?” Sam asks, breathless and on his back on the floor - vulnerable, unlike he often lets himself be.

He watches Cas shake his head with a crooked smile.  
”You’re perfect the way you are, as... cliché as that sounds. Better than I imagined, and - I imagined a lot, if I’m honest.”

”Seriously, I can get a piercing if you’d like.”

”Don’t put another hole in your body for me,” Cas chuckles, ”I love what you’ve already given me.”

He leans down next to Sam, and Sam rolls over to his side. He wraps his fingers around Cas’s hard cock the same time as Cas does the same for him, and they stroke each other for a moment just to enjoy the feeling of touching and being touched, eyes locked and both giving brief smiles or sighs to mark the heights of their pleasure. Then, a bit shakily, Castiel lets go of Sam’s cock; he moves his hand between Sam’s legs and as Sam parts them for him, he presses one finger against the younger man’s hole, rubbing it gently while watching Sam’s reaction to it. Sam closes his eyes; his hand, too, parts from Castiel, and moves over his own body instead. He grabs himself and, in rhythm with the movements of Castiel’s hand between his legs, starts stroking himself. Cas presses his lips over Sam’s and moves as close to him as he can, and Sam can’t help the small growls and whines that he lets out for a while, lost in the touch and the feel of Castiel so close to him.

”I want your fingers inside me,” he admits quietly, eyes looking into Castiel’s again.

Cas chuckles, shaking his head.  
”Later,” he promises, ”when we’re actually prepared for this.”

Sam lets out a short laugh, nodding.  
”Yeah, I guess.”

Still, Cas brings his hand out from between Sam’s legs and does his best to wet the middle one with his saliva; when he brings it down again, Sam holds his breath as he feels the fingertip enter him carefully. He closes his eyes and lets out a sound he barely recognises as his own, his hips twitching in a vain attempt at getting more of that touch. His hand runs over and over his length chasing the pleasure that Cas is giving him: it feels like heaven to have his finger move inside him, and it doesn’t take long before Sam’s dripping like Cas was moments before. Cas doesn’t stop, however - he doesn’t let Sam collect himself. Instead, he gives him a devilish grin and pushes his finger just a little deeper, as deep as the friction allows, and fucks him with it until Sam can’t hold back anymore. He shakes as he comes, his free hand rushing back into Castiel’s hair to bring him into a kiss as his come paints the other’s stomach, and right after, just when Cas is bringing his finger out, Sam’s hand lets go of his cock and moves to Castiel’s instead. And just like that, he doesn’t bring his finger out after all - instead, he keeps fucking Sam’s sensitive flesh, eyes closed and lips parted to receive but not reciprocate the kiss that Sam’s giving him, and he’s breathing heavy and hard as Sam moves his fist over his cock until he, too, shaking and moaning, comes over Sam’s fist.

Parting slowly, they stay on the floor for a minute or two just breathing before their eyes meet again and a couple tired laughs escape them. Sam runs his hand over Cas’s cheek and drags his fingertips over his ear, pushes his hair back down where it sticks up and forces his shaky body up from the floor.

”Shower together?” he suggests, his voice barely working.

Cas nods, lifting his hand for Sam to pull him up.  
”I desperately need that,” he confesses as they struggle to stay up on their trembling legs.

 


End file.
